Artemis Fowl: The War
by FantasyScienceFictionFan
Summary: Opal has busted her present self out of prison and is planning a full fledged war against the entire fairy civilization. With creatures like trolls, dragons, and nymphs on her side the LEP will have to find a miracle to beat her this time.1 year after TTP
1. Chapter 1

** Author's Note: Hey everyone this is my first fan fiction. I've put a lot of effort into it and I hope you like it. But most of all I'd like to thank my editor, Gun toten Girly. She wrote the first 4 chapters but I planned the story. So all praise for the writing should go to her. You can praise or criticize me if the story's not good. And if it's not tell me how to improve it. I'm open to suggestions. So enough of this boring note. On with the story!**

CHAPTER 1 

**HOWLERS PEAK **

Howlers Peak is the best prison above—or under—the Earth. Once you were behind the laser beam bars of a cell there was no turning back. In its entire five-hundred years of existence, not one inmate has successfully escaped—aside from General Scalene, who, everyone knows, was too much of a dunce to really escape on his own. It was guarded by the toughest guards in the business and, according to rumor, thirty trolls.

The guards were criminals themselves and had suits that couldn't be taken off. They were specially designed to stick to goblin skin, suctioning to the pores and preventing the lizard-like-fairy from shedding. Foaly—the technical consultant of the LEP—could destroy the suits in less than four seconds by remote-activating a control and forcing the fabric of the jumpsuit to tighten, thus cutting any oxygen from reaching the brain and making the fairy pass-out.

The prison was located aboveground, in the shrouds of hail and snowstorms that could only be known as the Arctic Circle. Howlers Peak was specially devised for goblins. The icy climate meant a goblin couldn't conjure a fireball without it being blown off his hand in the same second. Hexes surrounded the island that caused humans travelling too close to have their consciousness wiped-out and suddenly wake up at the nearest civilization-inhabitance. There weren't many relocations, seeing as how humans were actually smart enough to stay away from the cold. The officers that delivered the transportations were perched on the outer-tower walls. The weather-proof radars installed in the towers detected any human-DNA in a hundred-mile radius of the prison, along with the heaters that warmed their bodies and warded off frostbite and hypothermia. Satellites couldn't detect anything, as the cloud-coverage and evaporation was enough to envelop the island in complete invisibility. But just as precaution—as Foaly was one of the most paranoid beings on Earth—a ring of mirror-reflecting lenses that lined around the island would shine and create a glare on any picture a satellite would take.

LEP Commander Trouble Kelp had recently tripled the security around Opal Koboi's cell. There were two trolls—supposedly, as the inner-circles say—that were tied onto two pillars in front of the cell. This accusation was proven false, considering nothing besides sleek chrome walls adorned the hallway that led to the cell.

On the last report, nine goblins were said to be guarding the cell. A new goblin, who joined recently, wore the same suit as the others—thus putting him at the same risk of oxygen-deprivation as the others. The newbie had been searched through-and-through by the finest officers in the business. If they reported he was a goblin, then, by all means, he was one. Goblins always joined the prison guard whenever they had a chance to cut a couple of decades off their sentence.

Tonight, they were as vigilant ever.

Except the new one, of course. Being smaller than the others, he was ribbed constantly by the size of his build. His arms were too short, his nostrils too tiny to perform anything short of blowing puffs of smoke. His skin was a light green, the darker patches on his face and hands almost translucent-looking. He was odd, with large eyes and a patch of black fuzz on his head. Goblins weren't known to have hair on their face or head, seeing as how it would be burnt off at any given moment.

Lieutenant Kaleen Shrub was on survey-duty. He was a chubby-gnome, with blonde-streaked hair and beer-gut belly. He wasn't in the fittest of shapes, but didn't exactly see a reason to _be _physically fit. These goblins always did their job whenever it was before lunch. They were suckers for the boiled locust-stew. Shrub resisted the urge to gag.

It was days like these where he wished the next shift didn't take as long to finish their lunch break. There were always shifts in front of Koboi's cell. In total, the maniacal pixie had eight shifts with five-to-nine goblins per round. They each got a chance to eat their meals, sleep, and then restart their day.

The only problem, however, was the length of time it took for the goblins to assemble in front of the cell. There was a two minute window in which nobody except the cameras were watching the four-foot-thick steel cell. Shrub knew the system was new and unused, so there were bound to be kinks in the routine. He didn't like it, though he couldn't exactly trust the inmates to make the journey to the cafeteria unguarded.

The bell shrilled, indicating that shift-four was over. Shrub stood from his plastic-chair, waving his hand towards the double-doors that led to the hallway of other cells. The goblins compliantly formed a line, subjecting to the once-over that Lieutenant Shrub gave them.

"Hey, Shrub!" A voice behind him called. The Lieutenant, ever the professional, didn't turn around towards the fairy.

"Aye." He responded, passing one goblin through the doors.

"There's a boat that won't turn around!" The fairy called. "Commander's ordering all officers and guards on the pier to help relocate the ship!"

Shrub didn't finish the check-ups, instead ushering the goblins through the door. In his haste, he forgot about one. To his credit, the goblin had hid—shielding with magic he shouldn't have had in the first place. But the sloppy blur in the shadows should have been noticeable, had not the panic of human-detection lingered on their minds.

Once the room was empty, a tiny, focused beam of blue shot out from the blur. It struck the nearest camera, doing a domino-effect to the others in the room. The lightening shorted-out anything technological, including the suit in which the goblin adorned.

The goblin rolled his eyes, cracking his neck and flexing his arms. He blinked, the iris darkening into a rich-brown. Dark hair flooded out from the scalp, luxuriously reaching his knees. The skin lightened, the dark patches fading to becoming one creamy, smooth color. The features twisted and hissed, looking as if it caused pain, when, in actuality, the goblin felt nothing.

Or, as the new form took shape, Opal Koboi.

"Ungh." She groaned. Taking a step towards the four-foot-thick cell, she observed the metal door. By the time it took for the officers to realize that the ship was on auto-pilot with no crew, she had to have her past-self out of the cell and en route to the location zone. She took a deep breath, and poured a fraction of her energy through her fingertips.

The door instantly blew off.

"Hey—!" The cell-occupier screamed. Opal Koboi of the past quickly knocked the woman out with her _mesmer_. Having her ask questions—as she knew she would—would only stall on time and create chaos where there could've been fluidity.

And right now, time was of the essence.

"_You will sleep until I tell you to wake_." In a split second, Present-Opal Koboi dropped onto the tiled floor, her frizzed hair encasing her head like a huge cotton ball. Past-Opal wrinkled her nose. Was this how she was to end up? She looked over in a corner, where a line of chipped-off figurines stood. What were they? They looked almost like… unicorns?

She turned around to look at the cell door she had blown open. A few cracks spread away from the hole the door handle made when it hit the wall. Using her excessive strength, she fixed the door back in its place against its hinges. She filled the cracks with magic, but the amount she would have to use would seriously deplete her enchantment-spells. She mended the ones that were more visible, but stopped at the tiny chinks. Now would be the worst time to be minimal on magic.

She snorted when she saw the figurines again, yanked her Future-self up by the shoulders, and hauled her out the barred window. It would've been barred, had she not swung by earlier to jostle the metal rods from their nook in the cement. It was basically cardboard stuck on rice-paper.

It wasn't to say it didn't hurt when they collided through the wall.

o~:~o

They landed on the icy ground outside of the low window. Opal tried not to slip, but was foolish not to grab a pair of ice-boots. She chastised herself greatly for such idiocy. Grunting in disgust, Opal shook the slushy ice from her shoes while simultaneously checking their surroundings.

Deserted.

_Goblins. They wouldn't notice a false alarm until you said it to their face_, thought Opal, twisting her head to look at her future-self. Present-Opal was snoozing on her shoulder, oblivious to the danger that surrounded them. Clutching herself tighter, she vibrated the two of them out of visible spectrum. Normally, fairies can only shield themselves and not other objects or beings. But Opal Koboi from eight years ago was not a normal fairy. And an abnormal fairy meant abnormal magic.

Opal unfolded her DoubleDex and chugged the two of them up into the sky. They might have had magic to secure their visibility, but the radiation from the surrounding air quickly diminished their shielding capabilities. Not to mention Opal had yet again neglected to snag a MoonBelt. Foaly might have been an idiotic, intolerable waste of oxygen, but his inventions were useful.

They were out of Howlers Peek skyline in less than a minute, and climbing steadily still. Two miles of carrying her future-self made her arms ache and her shoulder throb. A few minutes of slow-flying resulted in the appearance of a steady hum from the wings. Noticing the noise, Opal unshielded. Instantly the radiation ate at her face, and she grimaced as the shuttle door flew open to reveal Mervall Brill. She landed inside.

"Take her to the cot." The cloaked shuttle rose into the Stratosphere, easily breaking the sound barrier at three-hundred and forty meters per second. A soft boom would have fooled you into thinking an airplane was present. But a smart fairy would have known that a flying, human craft wouldn't be able to survive over the North Pole, let alone get close enough to Howlers Peak without interception.

The engine slipped from a hushed buzz to entirely noiseless. _Thank you Foaly for your stupidity of having a gnome guard an advanced shuttle,_ Opal thought, easing her bruised-self into a cushioned chair. All those weeks of hiding out in Howlers Peak pretending to be an inmate had taken a toll on her magic. She'd have to complete the ritual as soon as possible.

Merv took the Present-Opal to a rusty, wooden bed. He remembered breaking her out of Argon's Clinic, and shuddered at the way she had easily disposed of him and his brother. A murderous rage overcame him for a second, before he controlled himself. Killing the human-fairy would definitely result in a homicidal rampage from the pixie in the adjacent room.

Descant came tiptoeing into the room, neither of the brothers having been informed about the _mesmerized_ spell Past-Opal had placed upon the woman. "Can you help me hack into Foaly's—I mean, _that stupid centaur's_—system? It's giving me a real headache." Merv was the expert with computers. Nowhere near as advanced as Ms. Koboi, but enough to elude the firewall and safety-precautions that Foaly had set up. Lately, though, for some reason, the centaur had been adding some extra precautions, adding labyrinths upon labyrinths of difficult puzzles to solve. It was extremely tiresome to have to solve original riddles and avoid firewalls. Merv had taken his turn for over an hour and was still finding it tremendously complex to solve.

"Yup. Let me make sure _her majesty's_ area arrangement is in working order. Don't want her clogging the chutes with our bodies again." The brothers shuddered and left the room, after Merv had made Opal as comfortable as possible.

Opal watched the Brill brothers attempt to hack Howlers Peek security system. It was quite amusing in itself. She was certain the Brill brothers were acting upon nonchalance, though she couldn't be sure. Had they become less stupid in the future? She didn't know these older, wiser, and suspiciously more frantic pixies anymore. Opal had ordered them to create a loop that would throw Foaly—or any guard that overlooked the tape—off.

The loop would show Opal eating inmate-rations from a tray that was pushed out of the food-slot. It also showed her going to the toilet and taking a frigid-cold shower. It must've been quite embarrassing to know that whenever her future-self undressed to use the lavatory or bathe someone would be watching through a camera. The loop was boring and long. Five minutes to be exact. Opal was horribly disgusted by how she had let herself go. Had she really been reduced to such a level? To be thrown into a prison specifically designed to hold goblins? Revolting.

Past-Opal's nerves got the best of her when Merv started to scratch his head. "Oh, let me do it! You two couldn't hack the system if you're life depended on it! Knowing our luck, you'd leave a trail for that _troll_to follow." She said, sitting down and hacking into Howlers Peak Surveillance under ten seconds. Dejected, the two twins sat back down and piloted the shuttle.

Past-Opal snuck past the firewalls, answering each riddle and question that was thrown her way correct. She used the trail bits she had found when someone else had tried to hack into Foaly's system, and hijacked off of their name. The signal came from Northern Europe—most likely that disgusting Mud Child, Artemis Fowl. Past-Opal felt her lips curl at the name. That human would be the first to go. Especially when she reviewed that video in the Eleven Wonders exhibit. The stories Mervall and Descant had told her were enough to get her blood boiling over that reckless Mudboy.

Mervall risked a glance over his mistress's shoulder. "Why didn't you create a loop when you busted _us_ out, Miss Koboi?" He rung his hands together, trying to remind himself that Opal Koboi from eight years ago was kinder, and enjoyed answering questions instead of finding them irritating. The second the Opal from his time awoke, all hell would break-loose. He was dreading the moment drastically.

"I didn't have to create a loop because it would seem _normal_ for your _doting mother_ to come bail you out." Past-Opal sighed. She shuddered at the memory of having to disguise herself as an older, pixie mother. It was something short of a miracle that the Brill brothers were even _up_ for bail. Imagine their surprise when Opal revealed herself to them. It was comical the way their eyes bulged and their jaws slacked.

She had to admit, though, the twins came in handy. Such as when they had to surreptitiously enter a port and rent this shuttle from a gullible gnome. They couldn't believe their luck when the gnome agreed to have them pay later without as much as a hoot or suspicion.

"You could have mesmerized someone to tell us that you were coming. It was a bit of a shock being pushed into the nearest shuttle by my mom." Descant sulked.

"I haven't any time to talk with you imbeciles." Opal said in an irritated voice. She sent the loop to the surveillance system, a satisfied smirk lazily spreading across her face. She had also sent a virus into Foaly's main system along with the loop. The donkey would be too worried about the virus to notice the loop.

Omitting a sigh, she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm—gently, not wanting to smear her makeup—and gracefully got up from the chair.

_A long day, no doubt, but a good one,_she thought, elegantly striding towards the junction where her future-self was sleeping.


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's Chapter 2. I hope you like it. This one is right after Chapter 1.**

** Please send me reviews even if they're negative. The last chapter I only got 1 review. But if I get more reviews I'll update quicker. **

**Disclaimer : In case anyone actually gives a damn, I don't own Artemis Fowl or related merchandise. They belong to Eoin Colfer. **

**Here's the chapter!**

Chapter 2

A murky voice boomed in her eardrums. "_Wake up._"

Delicate eyelids slowly blinked open. The long, dark eyelashes brushed against the tops of her cheekbones. With a groan, Opal Koboi rolled over. Instantly a shot of pain washed through her head, clearing her mind of any unnecessary thoughts and focusing on the whereabouts of the agony.

"You have finally awoken."

With her heart in her throat, Opal remembered her last few memories. She remembered hearing some shouts outside her door before it blew off its hinges. She vaguely recalled flying off her cot to affront the intruder when a melodic voice penetrated her consciousness and rendered her unconscious.

Opal sat up. The bed she was lying on was stiff and uncomfortable—her back creaked and her brain pounded against her forehead. The bed had a thin, scratchy sheet that fell loose when she had sat up. Her cot was positioned in a nook in the wall, a small piece of wood holding the furniture up. The walls had wood paneling that matched the floor. It looked as if the cot had been thrown into the small space without any say as to what it looked like. Everything was mismatched, from the coverings on the pilot/co-pilot chair to the different colored floorboards.

Sitting in the pilot's chair was female pixie. She had twisted the chair around so she was facing Opal. Her lips were plump, perfectly shaped in a coating of blood-red lipstick. Her dark brown eyes were opaque, the corners angling downwards so it gave her a menacing appearance. Her nose was straight and pointed. Her cheeks were slightly rounded, giving her an innocent disposition to add to her angular face.

All in all, Opal deduced she looked extremely familiar. Though she couldn't see her entire face, as her features were hidden in the depths of the shadows. The outline of the woman's face made the hairs on Opal's arm stand up.

"Where am I?" She murmured, her throat scratchy. She cleared it, and then attempted to speak again. "You have broken me out of my cell, so you must mean of some importance to me."

The woman appeared to have smiled. "Yes. I am of importance to you, just as you are to _me_. And I can't believe those idiotic police officers call Howler's Peak the most secure prison in the subterranean world. Breaking you out of _Atlantis_ would have been harder."

Opal's mouth opened on her own. "I was in Atlantis. They moved me when a disturbance occurred. I'm guessing that disturbance was—"

"Me?" The woman finished.

There were only three times in which Opal Koboi has shuddered in fear: when her father had threatened to kill her after she destroyed his reputation and business, when Briar Cudgeon had approached her with the plan to foil the LEP and underground-civilization, and when she found the detonated-charges in the booty box during the Zito-probe investigation.

This woman, however, sent chills racing up her entire body. She had grown soft, she realized. Time behind bars had killed her immunity towards snide remarks and icy comments.

"What are your intentions?" She demanded, regaining her voice back.

The woman chuckled, a breathy falsetto. "I will explain it later. First thing first, would you like to freshen up? I know _I_ wouldn't like to be interrogated while feeling dirty."

Opal couldn't help the sudden increase of tempo in her heart. Not from fear, but of rage. Did this woman think of her so idiotic to really get off the bed and actually _eat_ or _shower_ in her presence?

The pixie had a hard time restraining her temper. "I'd rather not." She spat, her dark eyes narrowed at the silhouette. The shadow shook her head delicately, an invisible smile on her lips.

"Human blood has tainted my veins." She murmured.

Opal frowned, even more confused that before. And there was nothing Opal Koboi hated more than being confused.

"Explain, _now_!" She shrieked, jumping from the mattress, her sweaty, bare feet easily finding purchase on the wooden floor. The shadows around the woman's face shrank back to give Opal a clear view.

Her heart expanded into her throat.

This woman looked _exactly_ like her 10 years ago.

"Who are you?" Opal asked, though she knew the answer even as she said it. There was no denying it, though a small voice niggled in the back of her mind. It was a wonder she had not yet gone mad. Hadn't she once entertained the thought of allowing her fans the same Koboi-perfect looks? Perhaps this was a crazed admirer.

"Who am I? I think the question is who are you? You seem to have forgotten your true self. Disgusting, really. A pituitary gland? How could I become so revolting in the future? To think I rescued a _Mud Woman_from prison…" The pixie trailed off, her eyes boring holes into Opal.

Her lip curled. "It was a tactful decision, mind you. Ingenious, really, never disgusting. Mud Men have advantages that we fairies never had. Height, for instance. Do you realize I could just topple over you and knock you unconscious?"

The woman didn't spare her another glance, making the tendons in Opal's arm swell. She was _seething_. Certainly this woman didn't simply disregard her? Opal Koboi was a thousand times more brilliant and clever than this… _mongrel_!

"Honestly, it's a little humiliating to even look at you. And 'we' fairies? I beg your pardon, but must I remind you every time your impudence has taken control your tiny brain that you are no longer fairy? Just a Mud Whelp." The woman scoffed at the last sentence, tossing her head to the side to flip her hair over her thin shoulder. Opal couldn't help the glass-shattering screech that escaped past her lips.

"Mud Whelp? Did you just refer to me as a _Mud Whelp_? You insignificant little _witch_!" Opal felt the urge to lunge, but wisely held back.

The woman turned her attention back to Opal, barely casting a side-glance. "Insignificant? I think not." She had the audacity to look un-offended by Opal's insult, even crossing her legs comfortably. "In fact, I am as close to a witch as you can ever imagine, my friend."

Opal's face was screwed into a grimace-like-sneer. Her once-beautiful features were no doubt covered in premature wrinkles. "You're no friend of mine."

The clone-like pixie smiled, her eyes thrusting daggers at Opal. "You are quite right. I am no friend. I'm much closer."

Opal's brain finally made the connection, confirming her suspicion and interlocking the two ideas—who was this woman and what did she want with her—together like a vice-grip. "Time travel." She breathed, her eyes wide. She had heard of it before, but never experienced it.

The woman frowned, examining her perfect nails. "It's a shame it took you this long to figure it out, my dearest self. Though I'm not sure if you are to blame. Human blood has a tendency to increase levels of stupidity in others. But enough of the talking," The pixie stood, her head coming up to Opal's nose. "I'm here for a reason."

Opal stood up to her full height, a whopping 2 inches above the head of her captor. Though she wasn't sure if she was kept here against her will, though she a had a feeling that if this woman… er, _herself_ went through all the trouble to break her out of prison then she most certainly wasn't going to risk for her to simply walk out the door.

"And what is that?" Opal studied her nails. "World domination? I'm sorry, but that objective already belongs to me."

Past-Opal threw her head back and laughed. "Oh no. Don't you understand? If this is me in the future," she looked Opal up and down, revulsion clear in her eyes. "Then I will be in your shoes in just a few measly years. This means that I will no doubt be the queen of the world in just a short time."

"How can you be so sure? My previous attempts have ended in subterfuge and stupidity."

Past-Opal chuckled. "Why in the world would I foil my own attempts at conquering the world? And that is not my goal; instead it will be yours."

Opal tried not to get confused. Was it her goal or _her_ goal? They were the same person, but the effect was the same. She was to focus on rendering the world underneath her clutches. But… if this was, in fact, herself, then…

"How did you get here? What time are you from—why are you not in the past? I do not remember traveling to the future at any time or point in my life." Opal's face darkened. Was this woman a fraud? Certainly nothing could prove that this was herself from a different time. Opal felt a ridiculous notion of betrayal. Why, she didn't know. Did she already have a feeling of Stockholm syndrome? An attachment to her captor? Though it wouldn't make sense; all her captor did was insult and call her names.

Past-Opal's features were graced with a small frown. "Then something must happen to me later on that make me forget." She tapped her chin with a long, manicured finger. "Interesting. But anyways, we will both have our goals."

Opal's eyes narrowed in accusation. "How do I know you're really me?"

Past-Opal smiled, reminding Opal of a certain Mud Boy. "You had a scar on your upper thigh from when you were a little girl and tried to ride a bike. The seat was too hot from sitting out underneath the magnastrips all day. When you went to sit on it, a small scar was left and wasn't healed until that night."

Opal was aghast. Never before had she told anyone of that imperfection. In reality it embarrassed her to not have the flawless skin she claimed to have. She had lied to any interviewer that asked her if she had obtained any scars in her life—which hadn't shamed her unduly.

The only person that knew was her.

Opal stayed quiet as her counterpart stared on. "…What's this plan of yours?"

o~:~o


	3. Chapter 3

  
CHAPTER 3

**The Next Day,**

**Haven City**

**Police Plaza**

**Ops. Booth**

Foaly kneaded his forehead. With his brain pounding a hip-hop beat in his head, it was pretty difficult to concentrate on his work, let alone restrain himself from singing along to the rhythm. It was agony to try and concentrate on advanced geometry..

The cause for his headache, however, was much more important then his work. Every time he tried to focus on physics or arithmetic, a certain brown-eyed centaur would keep popping-up in his mind. The expression on the centaur's face, however, didn't leave the usual feeling of warmth.

_Wow, I screwed up_, he thought, lazily tapping a key on his keyboard. He supposed he should really get that paperwork done. Why did he even _have_ paperwork, you ask? He grumbled darkly under his breath, cursing the virus left in his computer. Somehow it restricted access from saved documents, pictures, videos, and the Internet. No matter how many computer-scans he did, he knew it would take a few more minutes before he found the little bug. It had infected his computer about an _hour_ ago, and, oddly enough, it had only affected _his_ computer. Everyone else in his department was untouched.

It wasn't a reassuring thought. His heart, despite his reassurances that nothing could've happened, was pounding extremely hard.

A whisper hissed from behind him. The only sign Foaly heard the noise was a flick of his brown tail, and maybe a twitch of his ear, if he thought about it. It was an unintentional reaction, a reflex he couldn't control when something caught him off guard.

This was pathetic.

"Hey Foaly. What're you doing?" Holly's voice came from the far-end of the Ops Booth. The hiss of the door closing didn't seem so loud anymore. Foaly unconsciously grinned. No matter how many times he saw her, he would always get a feeling of giddiness when she walked in the room. Already his ears were standing.

He sighed. "I somehow got a virus," Holly looked stunned. The only other time she had ever heard of Foaly getting a virus in his computer was almost 5 years ago during the B'wa Kell Uprising. It was unheard-of and almost considered an omen.

Foaly caught her expression. "Yeah, I _know_. But I have a hunch about who did it."

Holly smirked, crossing her arms and silently making her way across the Ops Booth. Foaly's tail twitched when she arrived at his flank, staring at the computer screen over his shoulder. Numbers and percentages were flashing everywhere.

She blinked, trying to regain her eyesight. Man, was that screen _bright_. How could he stare at that thing _every_ minute of _every _day?

"Let me guess," she hopped up on the desk, earning a displeased look from her friend. "Artemis?"

The centaur whinnied, his face morphing into an irritated frown. "That Mudboy is really getting on my nerves. Somehow he's able to make bigger and better viruses that are complicated to get out. It's taking me over ten minutes to get rid of it!" He huffed. Since Opal had escaped from officials almost a year ago in the rubble of the Kraken, Artemis and Foaly maintained constant contact. Over a period of a few months, it became a battle to see who can create the nastiest computer bug. Of course, none of them would risk destroying each other's files—Holly had grudgingly pointed out that it would be idiotic to corrode each other's computers, as both of them had valuable information—so they practiced on the length of time it took to get rid of it. The record, so-far, was a 30 minute removal process held by Artemis.

Holly pursed her lips, finding it dangerous to point out that the last time Artemis had contacted her or Foaly was a few months ago. She vaguely remembered the parting-conversation, seeing as how she had been promoted at around the time they spoke. Her stress-level had shot through the roof, and although she felt guilty for not paying attention, she knew his temporary-absence was for a good reason. Or at least a sensible one. She couldn't remember what it was, but she had been highly-approving of it.

She looked back at Foaly.. There _had_ to be a different reason why he was so agitated. Surely Artemis couldn't make the centaur this upset. She was almost certain that anything pertaining to the viral-contest would be taken as good-game.

Holly frowned. "What else is bugging you?" She asked, swinging her legs. Foaly sighed and leaned back in his modified chair. He rubbed his eyes and groaned.

"I forgot our anniversary today."

Holly's eyebrows rose and her mouth dropped. A small pang of guilt kneaded at her for not being at Foaly's wedding, but Caballine was a charming centaur, and she had instantly rose to the top-five list of her best friends. Every weekend they would go shopping, and although Holly rarely bought anything, she found conversation with Caballine relaxing and entertaining. If Foaly knew half the topics they talked about, he would have _both_ their cell phones destroyed in a matter of minutes. But Holly knew how smitten he was with her, and it would take an enormous amount of anxiety for him to forget about something like that.

"Er, wow…?" Holly's accusation came out like a question. Foaly chuckled, groaning again and rubbing his forehead, in vain hope that his headache would disappear that way. "Is she even _talking_ to you? What is it, your third anniversary?" She asked.

Foaly nodded. "I don't know what to do!" He whined. His tail twitched again. "She's not _looking_ at me, she leaves when I enter the _room_… I thought about taking her to dinner, but that seems so…"

"Cliche?" Holly asked. Foaly nodded and shook his head to help clear his thoughts..

They both squirmed in their seats. This wasn't a normal topic of their conversation, and although Holly had a responsibility of friendship towards Foaly, she couldn't help but feel sorry for Caballine.

"Look, I'm not taking sides, and I probably shouldn't be the one giving advice," Holly hopped down from the desk, brushing nonexistent dust from her jumpsuit. "But I think you should do something _especially_ romantic. Caballine is a very… er, passionate centaur."

Foaly nodded and rubbed his eyes. Holly sighed, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, but I've got to go. I've got a ton of paperwork to finish. Don't worry about it, okay?" She sighed, dragging her feet across the tiled floor.

"See you," Foaly muttered, pressing a key. The screen didn't react, instead each of the virus scanners reporting that they were ninety-eight percent finished.

"Bye Foaly. See you tomorrow."

The Op's Booth door hissed shut. Foaly, now alone, twirled his finger in the air. He searched around his room for anything to do, anything to keep his mind off the annoyingly-slow scans. Before he could find something, beeping erupted from his speakers. Turning his attention back, he found the source of his problems.

"So it _was_ him, eh?" He smiled, shaking his head. Artemis was in for a big surprise when he woke up tomorrow


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's chapter 4 everybody! Sorry it took so long but school was killing me. I live in India and here, school is really tough! **

**This is mostly a filler chapter. Most of it was written by my amazing editor guntotengirly, even though I asked her not to. She's THAT Awesome! **

**I wrote the Snooper(you'll find out what that is) scenes but that's it. So any credit for the writing goes to my editor!**

**So here's the chapter!**

CHAPTER 4

**HAVEN CITY**

Haven City was a metropolis bustling with tourists, civilians, and hard-working fairy. The concrete sidewalks were full to bursting with impatient crowds as they tried to hustle past each other. Sour faces twisted with exhaustion mingled on almost every person.

Among these bitter faces was a certain dwarf. It was difficult to see his face, but it was obvious who he was. Despite having a criminal-past, Mulch Diggums was now a renowned protector of Haven City.

Holly's 3-year absence had taken a toll on the business. In the beginning, Mulch was concerned that without the reputation of a professional-crime-fighting fairy to give their firm a boost that their business would drop. Who would want to rely on an ex-criminal? His fears were confirmed for the first couple of months, and in those months he had even juggled the idea of selling the PI firm. But the certain collection of fond feelings for the company had delayed the advertisement.

And lucky for him.

After the disappearance of his friend, Mulch—in an hour of desperation—had hired Doodah Day as his partner. Business skyrocketed after that. Lies and cheats were exposed to the surface, and though the job was stressful, it was rewarding in its own way. To see the relief on the people's faces as they finally learned the truth was worthwhile.

Foaly, grudgingly, had continued to lend the business his outdated equipment. When Mulch had subtly suggested a helmet to join the collection, Foaly had promptly hung up the phone. He knew the dwarf was legit now, but who was to say about the next 500 years? The centaur felt a tad guilty for not trusting Mulch, but a quick jog through his memory—i.e. all of Mulch's crimes—lifted his heart out of its slump.

Mulch sauntered up the small steps that led to the front door of his office. The brick was an adobe brown with a rounded wooden door. A small light was hooked beside the plaque—_Diggums and Day Private Investigators_— and a small, foggy window was nestled in the door. The security wasn't great on the outside, but the second you walked through the door without Mulch's or Doodah's permission a dozen face scanners would activate, a trip-wire would sound, ad an x-ray scanner would come into action. It wasn't uncommon to wear something over your face when commencing a robbery, so the x-ray scanner would see through any material worn.

Then again, the security wasn't as profound on the inside, either. Anyone would still be able to walk through, grab something, and walk out. But, they would be caught later, and that was the point.

Slamming the door behind him, Mulch whistled as he waddled through the front hallway and into the kitchen. A sigh and a shuffle of papers alerted him to the presence of his coworker.

"Mulch—Frond _help_ me if you're in the kitchen. My hands might not be able to fit around your fat neck, but I can kill you in different ways."

Mulch snorted, a smirk growing on his face. "With what? The Giggle-Gun?"

'The Giggle-Gun', as Mulch dubbed it, was a patented device by Foaly, the technical consultant of the LEP. The centaur had created the idea a few years back, during the Paradizo-raid, as it happened. 'The Giggle-Gun' is actually named 'Sustainable Morphine Integrator with Liberated Endorphins', or abbreviated _SMILE_.

After having cleared the device, Foaly had slipped Mulch and Doodah one while subsequently throwing in a registration-paper. It wasn't as if the weapon was dangerous in any way, shape, or form. The authorities couldn't exactly jail them for having possession of a firearm and Foaly wasn't afraid of giving ex-convicts a harmless weapon.

The device was essentially a weapon, but it acted and resembled a human's TASER gun. Instead of two darts, a pad with 200-foot wires fastened to it and an extremely sticky substance would shoot out. The second the pad would attach itself to the suspect, a sensor would branch out and analyze what species of fairy had been registered, record their DNA signature, and how much electrical charges would be needed to trigger the Hypothalamus Neurons in the brain—or, more easily interpreted, to activate the spread of endorphins into the spinal cord and blood. Drops of morphine would be injected through the sticky-material and seep through any kind of fabric or skin-tissue to keep the person from struggling and allowing the endorphins to course through the body. The person was blissfully unaware of their surroundings and kept still and silent.

Needless to say, it was a vital part of their undercover-missions.

Doodah stayed silent. "You know what? Maybe I should! At least I could get some peace and quiet around here and you wouldn't be shoving food into your cheek-pockets."

Mulch growled under his breath, slamming the refrigerator door shut and marching into the office. Doodah had recently been referring to Mulch as a chipmunk, as the dwarf was capable of shoving food into his mouth and it seemingly disappear.

"I'm not a chipmunk, you little rat." Mulch tossed—or more like _chucked_—a paper-holder at the pixie. Doodah ducked just in time, tutting at the former-convict.

"Throwing things at your coworkers doesn't improve an office-relationship. The article Foaly sent us said-so." Doodah snickered at the memory of the forwarded-email. He had been laughing the entire time while reading, and eventually he grudgingly sent it to Mulch. Of course, Mulch was irritated the entire time when reading it, claiming to have been _friendly_ and _agreeable_ with him during the course of their employment together.

"Article, my bum-flap," Mulch grumbled. "I didn't throw _anything_. There was a spider right behind your head and I decided to take a shortcut to kill it."

Doodah looked at him darkly. "And you took the course that would have more-than-likely knocked me unconscious?"

Mulch stared at the pixie as if he had grown a third-nostril. "I'd _never_ knock you out on _purpose_. That's an insult that will haunt me until the day I die. And when that day comes I'll _really_ knock you out on purpose, just for the hell of it."

Doodah opened his mouth to relay a snide remark, but a blip on his computer saved Mulch from having to inquire about different ways to murder a pixie with a stapler. And good thing, too, for Mulch was reaching for the aforementioned object and calculating how hard to throw it.

"Before I verbally assault you," Mulch snorted. "I'm going to have to tell you that we've just got a tip from the Snooper." The Snooper was a small, four wheeled machine that roamed around the rough parts of the city. It was a small robot that resembled the rovers that humans used to explore the surfaces of planets, although it had slightly higher artificial intelligence. It was black, stout and had a high definition digital camera planted onto it's front. Doodah the self proclaimed technical genius of the outfit would send the Snooper out of the office at 8:00 Am. It would automatically come back twenty four hours later. He would type in the coordinates of the locality that he wanted it to search everyday.

It would send the footage collected on it's camera to their computer as an email It could recognize any suspicious activity. It rated these activities based on the severity of the activity. Mugging, pick-pocketing and other petty crimes were rated 1. Smuggling and drug dealing were rated 2. If someone was found guilty of committing every crime on the list from 1 to 2 it would be rated 3. So far they've never had to deal with someone who was rated 3. If they did they would let Foaly know about it.

"The footage I'm getting is rated 2. It shows a really messed up dude smoking cigars, and taking other human drugs. He doesn't look like he'd put up a fight. Might be fun to nab him."

Mulch guffawed. "One of the few things I've heard from you that doesn't sound like it came out of a skinny, green frog."

Doodah retorted. "And I haven't heard anything come out of your mouth that didn't smell worse than all the sewers in the world put together. Anyways, think we should take this one? He's drugged-up and hasn't been seen in three days by friends and relatives."

"Suicidal, then. Send a message to the Rover to stay put." The bearded fairy mumbled. Doodah did as told.

The dwarf twirled a beard hair. If they took this mission on, and it turned out to be fluke, they would look like morons. But if they had the information, and that fairy was actually an addict, then _they_ could be labeled criminals for withholding information. Then again, if they _did_ take it, and it proved to be a good lead, than this capture alone would be enough to pay for groceries for the entire year.

His stomach gurgled at the thought.

"So?" Doodah's eye twitched. It was _much_ too early to think rationally and to keep his facial tics under control. Irritation was a powerful thing.

"We probably should."

Doodah raised a dark eyebrow. "Now you're talkin'"

Mulch patted his pockets, not bothering to answer the pixie. "I don't have any money on me."

Doodah was nearly thrown by this. "Money? Why do we need money?"

The dwarf gave him a look that could only be described as '_duh_'. "We're not seriously going to Police Plaza without money, are we? First, we'll need a cab, and that'll be about $20, and then we'll probably need to look like tourists—" Doodah threw his head back and groaned, "—so we'll have to buy a few things to keep the charade up."

Doodah lifted his head from the chair's headrest, pointed ears twitching. "Are we bringing the Giggle Gun?"

Mulch gave him a side-long glance. "What else are we going to bring? A rope to rein him in? Idiot."

Doodah withheld the urge to stick his tongue out. He could get the fat chipmunk later, when there wasn't a pixie waltzing around getting fairies high. He sighed and heaved himself from the chair. Zipping past Mulch to the closet, Doodah took a clothing box from the top shelf and threw it at the dwarf. Mulch glared at the pixie's head and opened the lid.

"I am _not_ going to be the stupid blonde this time," Mulch shoved the box into Doodah's face, side-stepping his co-worker and scrambling to find anything that would disguise himself while holding his dignity.

Doodah snickered, holding the short, bright yellow wig with two fingers. "Why do we even have this?"

Mulch grunted, using his flexible toes to add an extra few inches to his height and snagging a clear-tub from the same shelf. "It was before your sorry butt ever came here. Holly would wear it sometimes when her face wasn't all over billboards."

Doodah raised his eyebrows, a smirk forming on his lips. "Think we could ask her to go undercover for us?"

Mulch rolled his eyes, picking out a pair of Groucho Glasses and putting them on. "I don't think she'd like that too much. Her schedule's already packed, what with her being a _Major_ and all." He grumbled, flicking the idiotic glasses back into the bin.

Doodah sighed, picking out a vial filled with colored contacts, a can of hairspray, a sticker, and a fake nose-ring.

"Guess I'm going as the Goth," he mumbled, slamming the bathroom door shut.

It would have been nice to own a hover car. To zip around Haven and arrive at the designated destination in a matter of minutes. The sleek, shiny paint job with blue flames bubbling out of the nitro-blaster and the specialized metal capable of withstanding any missile thrown at it was enough to have any fairy drooling.

Yes, it would have been nice to own one.

Instead, Doodah and Mulch had to walk to Police Plaza. The money they had combined wasn't enough to pay for a cab. It was a 10 minute trip that felt much longer, on account of Mulch's whining and complaining. Dwarves, he reasoned, weren't built for walking. Doodah, on the other hand, pointed out that if dwarves weren't built for walking, why did they have legs?

After arriving at Police Plaza, Mulch turned to Doodah, still sour after their argument. "Okay, what does the idiot look like?" He fingered a piece of cloth from a vendor, the owner currently conversing with a previous customer.

Doodah, playing his part, slouched on the booth and rolled his eyes. "Like, I don't know, man. Why are you asking me? Like, isn't everyone an idiot in their own way? Isn't the _world_ an idiot?"

Mulch raised an eyebrow. Doodah's Gothic getup was a little annoying, but he had to hand it to the pixie. Acting was sure his forte. Now it was time to play his part. The dig-champion dwarf.

Which, of course, Mulch _was_.

The entire disguise was actually pretty ridiculous, and lucky for them tourists naturally thought citizens of Haven City were freaks. It was the only city plagued upon by evil pixies, it was the only city in which humans were brought underground, and it was the only city in which a female officer was ever enrolled in the LEPrecon!

But, a tightly-fitted t-shirt, a pair of lens-less glasses, and 'Diggorium 50-Meter Dash' cap was hardly going to arouse suspicion.

"Riiight. Like we can just find this dude with magic." Mulch rolled his eyes, stepping away from the booth and strutting towards Police Plaza steps. It was a little unnerving to think Holly was in there. After 3 long years it was almost impossible to remember how easy life was when Holly and him were the only members in their PI firm. Everyone seemed to trust her, even though she had been tried for murdering her commander.

"Okay," Doodah whispered. "You want to take Eastside and I take Westside?" He gestured at the road-signs, flipping his wig-hair over his shoulder.

Mulch nodded. "If one of us catches sight of this moron, we coordinate through these," Mulch slipped an earphone into Doodah's hand.

"Roger, roger," Doodah muttered, pressing the clear cone in his ear. They both headed off, Mulch with a little swagger in his step, and Doodah with a heavy slouch. All around the sidewalks they walked—swerving in-between people, passing sarcastic remarks to said-people, and all-the-while searching for a suspicious pixie.

Throngs of people were surreptitiously avoiding both of them. Doodah's costume was only slightly creepy, and Mulch smelt like a human's toilet-bowl that hadn't been sanitized in years.

Built in the Frond dynasty, plenty of the structures had crumbled and replaced by different-colored mud. Laundry hung across strings between apartments for the unfortunate who did not own a washing machine or enough money to go to the nearby Laundromat. The streets were swept clean by fairies employed as city-workers in the morning, and another shift would do a roundabout when the sun-strips would die down to replicate nighttime. Machines could be used, but after a vote in the Council, they concluded that hundreds would be put out of a job, and if a machine malfunctioned they couldn't fire it. Hiring a new fairy cost much less gold instead of repairing or purchasing a brand-new machine.

The multi-mixers—Doodah remembered _those_ quite well—that used to adorn street corners and sidewalks had disappeared. Replacing them were the hover cars that Doodah intensely wished the PI firm owned.

A cough of laughter caught Doodah's attention. Of course, coughs of laughter were unusual when walking past an alleyway. Had he been walking through a crowd, the laugh could have been a person telling a joke. Maybe in the human world there were people living in every alleyway in every city. But in Haven, any sort of noise originating in an alley was strange. Every fairy had a home. Every fairy had a job.

Doodah tossed a casual glance down the alley. It was difficult to act curious with his disguise—Goths could care less about life itself—but if the situation was dire, he would have to dump his act and earn his salary.

A small pixie—maybe a foot and a half tall—was sitting in a damp puddle. The shadows overlapped and shrouded the figure in darkness, but it was obvious that the fairy was a pixie by two standards. Firstly, the figure—even hunched—was too tiny to be any other sort of fairy. It couldn't be a child, considering the tiny laugh he had heard was too defined and deep to be a child. And secondly, even though the voice was deep, pixies had a tendency to have a naturally high-pitched voice. Adult males were slightly lower in pitch, and almost all pixies had the exact same tone. It was difficult to tell a pixie's voice from another. And this was most definitely a male pixie's voice.

He heard a sudden whirring and looked down and saw something that looked like a children's toy car rolling to him.

"Snooper! If you're here then he's gotta be the guy."

"Who's the guy?" said the drugged pixie.

Doodah turned around to lie to him but realized it was no use. The pixie had already started laughing.

The deep-cough-chuckles continued, obviously accentuating an insane mind in-the-making. Doodah, unconfused—he _had_seen worse in 3 years with Mulch—carried his slouched-self past the alley. Safely out of view from the deranged pixie, Doodah searched for a street sign to direct Mulch to.

A bead of sweat ran down his temple. The black clothes weren't helping, either.

"Mulch, you there?"

A crackle in his earpiece. "No, I'm—" A tumbling of barrels and the sound of someone punching him in the gut crashed through Doodah's eardrum. A spark of concern flared inside of him, but was quickly extinguished. Mulch's gut would be plump enough to bounce anything off. A woman yelling was heard in the background. Mulch was mumbling something and trying to reassure the woman with a comforting tone to his voice.

It didn't sound like it was working.

Finally, after what seemed like half an hour—Doodah kept his trained eye on the alley-entrance—Mulch decided to hoof it.

"What did you _do_?" Doodah demanded. The alley was still wide open, though he was starting to get antsy. There _are_ two ways to get out of an alley, after all.

"Nothing." Mulch huffed. "Now, what's the reason for annoying me?"

Doodah wanted to say something rude and equally as disrespecting. But, instead, Doodah opted to lean for the brighter side. A brighter, happier side that involved arresting a criminal who's taking drugs.

He could see a rainbow already.

"I think I found him." He muttered, ducking his head to give the appearance that he was just leaning on a wall as another crowd shimmied by.

There was some crackling as Mulch started to pick up his pace. "Where are you?"

Doodah looked up at the street sign and did a double-take. "Tigerlily,"

Mulch groaned. "Why can't they _ever_… Never mind, I'm on my—wait, where in _Frond's_ name is that?"

Doodah ignored him and continued onward with their plan. "Look, he doesn't have much time. He's sitting in an alley mumbling Frond-knows-what to himself, so I'm going to take action."

"Alright. I'll be there as fast as possible. Wait… is he a pixie?" Mulch asked.

"Yeah… _why_?"

Mulch grumbled. "It's always the pixies that are crazy."

Doodah didn't elaborate on that subject. He knew of Mulch's past, and he also didn't want to hurt the dwarf's sensitive feelings. After all, it's always the fatties that are jolly, but there _are_ such-things as sumo-wrestlers.

Mulch sighed, his guttural voice returning. "Look, just run the guy to Vlapearce Street. I'll meet you there."

Doodah's eye twitched. More then likely Mulch was standing at the very street sign. "Mulch, are you saying that because you don't want to walk any further?"

Mulch huffed. "It's a tactical decision, now do what you're told or you're fired!"

Doodah chuckled, coughing to disguise his laughter. The people walking past him gave him a wide-berth, not only because his bright yellow eyes chilled them to the bone, but because hacking in the middle of a sidewalk wasn't exactly normal.

"You can't fire me, we're partners."

Mulch sighed. How could he have employed such an idiotic, smart-mouthed…?

He restrained himself. Exploding at the pixie would only result in bowel-disorder, thus reducing the amount of… _gas_ needed to complete the mission. And if the mission went according to plan, he would need his gas to capture the deranged pixie. He always needed his gas for _some_thing, it seemed.

Doodah slipped from his place on the wall and slid back down the sidewalk towards the alleyway entrance. Before he could even see the shadow in which the fairy was hiding he could hear the laughter. It was slightly louder than before, and had a slight lilt of a drunken gnome.

This was bad. Scientists had predicted what human-drugs would do to a fairy's anatomy. They hypothesized that the cannabis—the main ingredient in human narcotics—would slowly eat away at their lungs, much faster than which a human would experience.

More than likely, a human could smoke narcotics for their entire lifespan and have, at the very least, only a few years stripped of their life.

If a fairy, on the other hand, were to begin smoking, their life would be reduced by half. Pixies generally lived until they were at least 720 years old. If narcotics are involved, their life would be reduced to 360 years. This pixie had to be at least 200 if he were able to withstand such strong drugs, which would mean he had 160 good years in him. If any other drugs were involved, then his lifespan could be reduced drastically.

Doodah stood in front of the alley, blocking the sun strips from reaching anything within. Because of the sudden darkness, he was able to make out a strong silhouette of the suspect. Spiked hair, strong features, and a thin, tiny body.

Not at all the appearance of a diabolical drug-abuser.

"You're under arrest for smuggling, and _smoking_, human drugs. Retard." He drew the Giggle Gun and cocked it. He didn't need to chase the guy to Vlapearce Street—what was Mulch _thinking_?—he just needed to fire and…

And…

Where did the guy go?

Doodah looked down the alley. Running in the darkness was a small fairy; dodging dirty boxes, knocking down trash and skipping over puddles. Doodah holstered the Giggle Gun and gave chase. There was no way this pixie could outrun Doodah Day—the one pixie who had competed, _and won_, in the Haven City 500 Meter Dash.

Jumping over the tumbled boxes, Doodah pressed his earpiece into his ear. It was easier to listen if all he could hear in one ear was Mulch's voice.

"I'm in pursuit," he said, his voice free of stressed breathing. This was where Doodah loved it most—chasing a criminal at full speed. He had thought smuggling was his passion, but now that he gave crime-fighting a chance, he was shocked at how thrilling it was to _be_ the pursuer instead of being the _pursue-y_, so to say.

He rounded the end of the alley and shot to the right. Now that the pixie was in the light, it was easy to note his appearance. Doodah listed them to Mulch, giving the dwarf an easier target to spot.

"Short, thin, dyed-spiked hair, pale with a white t-shirt with black writing on it." Mulch could hear his companion's voice break as he ran. But, throughout the entire chase, Mulch didn't hear Doodah start to pant or lose his breath at all.

He crouched into the shadow of the building he was at. He believed it to be a flower-shop—fake flowers, of course—but he wasn't sure. The rose on the stained-glass could also mean it was a beauty salon.

_Women…_ he rolled his eyes. _So complicated_. He thought back to when that lady had been yelling at him. He had to admit, it was his fault for not paying attention to where he was going. But who puts a stack of crates in the middle of the sidewalk? He could feel a bruise coming on from where the crate had dug into his gut. The woman—he noticed, with interest—was elfin, with dark auburn and dark brown eyes. He shook his head, and prepared his bum-flap for the pixie.

Doodah was gaining speed. He could see the length of concrete between him and the pixie growing smaller. His vision was marred and blurred from pounding on the sidewalk. His breathing was regulated through his nose, and he could feel his legs working as fast as possible. The pixie in front of him was no doubt going to be detained…

The pixie turned left, much to Doodah's relief, and crossed the intersection without stopping for traffic. Just around the corner was Mulch, where he would no doubt release his surprise on the suspect. Doodah, just as a precaution, pulled out the Giggle Gun and aimed it at the retreating figure.

"What do you think you're doing, civilian?" Came a demanding voice behind him. An unconscious smile spread across Doodah's face when he heard the command.

"Catching a criminal, _Major Short_." He replied, and shot the pads from the Giggle Gun.

**Author's note: I hope you liked it! Please review! If I get at least 6 reviews then I'll update by Wednesday. I promise.**

**Once again review,review,review!**


End file.
